AM Synchronicity Aka Only One Minute
by Chloe Veverka
Summary: One ordinary, summer morning, Angelina receives an unexpected wake-up note from none other than Fred Weasley. A Fred/Angelina, friendship/romance-hinting story that I may make longer if motivated to do so :D Prior to HPGoF


A.M. Synchronicity

(Aka Only One Minute)

**Author's Request for HELP!:** So this is my second submission here and I'm still trying to adjust to the submission format. Even though I submit my docs in double space and with indents, they don't show up. I know it's frustrating to read without the proper spacing, but I'm not used to this format. So if you can tell me how to get my work to come out with double spacing without me having to manually press "enter" a billion times, let alone how to indent the paragraphs, PLEASE let me know!! I'll republish this story once someone helps me out. Thanks:)

Author's Story Note: I always wonder about what happens during those summer interludes, when all of the students are discarded to their various non-academic lives. Here's a little episode of nothing about a morning the summer before book/movie 4 (and when the Fred/Angie relationship hints are so obvious despite their subtlety). Title inspired by the way in which Angie and Fred's private lives match up more than they realize.

-----------

It had all started off easily and normally enough for a young, aspiring witch – with the sound of an owl making savage contact with

the window. The sudden thud-crack that resounded through Angie's bedroom was loud enough to jar her from her hazy dream,

but she swiftly resumed her soft snore. It wasn't until she heard an angry hoot and a persistent peck-peck-peck on the glass that

she mumbled into her pillow. Angie shook the duvet off of her and, without grace or care, flopped out of her bed. Stepping over a

few piles of books, her cauldron, and an amalgam of Quidditch magazines and music reviews, she reached her window and drew

back the curtains. Her sleepy state was shaken when she recognized a frazzled, ruffled Errol staring back at her with a note tied to

his leg. She opened her window, allowing the Weasley family owl to hop inside onto her ledge.

"Bit early for a memo, eh, Errol?" she asked, peering at her tableside clock. 7:24 am during the summertime. The only Weasleys

she could imagine awake at this hour were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley themselves. Well, and maybe Hermione, if she was visiting Ron.

Errol extended his leg, as though he had done so a thousand and three times, and waited for Angie to untie the mail. Angie cooed

at her small visitor, pitying his constantly clumsy misfortune. "Here you are, Errol," she said, feeding the Great Grey a treat. After

starting her journey at Hogwarts, she had learned to keep owl snacks on standby. "Take a breather, however long you need,

before you head back."

Seemingly grateful, Errol took to preening his plumage, which had haphazard feathers sticking out at all angles. Retracing her steps in her dark bedroom, easily missing the items on the floor as though

she knew their locations by heart, Angie flopped back onto her bed.

"Lumos" she muttered, producing a light from the tip of her wand. She skimmed the note's content. She squinted at the familiar scrawl of Fred Weasley.

---

_Rise and shine Angel,_

_Yes, it is a bit early for a memo. Thought it best to get a mornin' start, seein' the summer's almost over. Question is, you ready for some premature schoolin' from Professor Weasley? If yes, then_

_get dressed and be here at The Burrow at 8:00 sharp. If not, then enjoy your bed._

_Don't disappoint, Johnson. Hope to see you soon,_

_The Amazing Fred_

_(PS: yeah, I know you love your beauty sleep; but it's not like you need it.)_

---

After finishing the note, rereading the post script a few times, and performing "Nox", Angie rolled onto her back. She tried to suppress it. She tried. But that girly smile could not be shaken as it spread

across her face. "Hmm," she hummed with content. "One minute, one minute and that's all," she mumbled to herself. And so one minute passed that she allowed herself to feel giddy. To allow that tingly

sensation to creep across her neck, the one that unhinged her articulation, the one she felt while thinking of a certain someone in a less-than-platonic manner. But only one minute was allowed. And only a

pinch of glee could be dispelled. That's all.

"It means nothing," she said while sitting upright, directing her comment to Errol. "It really doesn't; you know it, I know it." Errol stared at her as though she was crazy. After all, coming from the

Weasley family, he was used to seeing some odd behavior. He had hoped, for the sake of humanity, that such behavior did not extend too far from the cozy Burrow. Angie did not fill him with confidence.

Angie changed out of her comfortable pajamas, consisting of a tank top and girly boxers, and pondered what she should wear. "He didn't disclose any details at all. How am I supposed to know what to

wear if I have no idea what we're doing? And at this bloody hour, who knows…" She paused, hands on hips, eyes searching her closet.

She turned to the little owl, whose head was slowly starting bob with fatigue. "It's Fred Weasley we are talking about, though," she said, waking Errol up. She glared suspiciously off into space. "That

being said, it best not be something I truly like. Who knows what he may dump on me. Or singe me with. Or explode near me. Or even worse." She paused. "Maybe I should just wear a big garbage bag

and hope for the best?" Errol continued to stare at her. She took the hint. "Right, keep it simple. Keep it Weasley-proof." She took a small notepad and scribbled a short correspondence for Fred.

Securing it tenderly to Errol's leg, she gave the little owl a back pat and off he flew in a jagged sort of fashion. She couldn't help but say a short prayer for the grey flyer as she went back to her closet.

After having been mates with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan for years now, Angie had learned a few things about the appropriate dress code when Hogwarts robes were not mandatory. At best,

she had been forced to retire several outfits due to "irreconcilable mishaps." Fire, water, ice, smoke, dust; if you could name the element, Angie could recall a scenario in which she had been either the

direct target or an unfortunate second-hand victim of a Weasley product or prank. So she settled on tactical endurance: some jeans to cover her skin, a yellow camisole for the unusual heat wave, a denim

jacket (with the holes and scratches to prove that it was a trooper), and a pair of sneakers for evasive and escape purposes.

"Now… hair oh hair, what to do with you," she asked while consulting the mirror. Angie had shed her micro-braids earlier that summer and ran a brush through her freestanding, shoulder-length

locks. It was a good hair day. That being said, she pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The chaotic atmosphere of Hogwarts' usual Potions classes had taught her that during any experiment, it was always

best to keep hair constricted and away from activity.

Grabbing her messenger bag, a newly acquired item for the summer in which she stored her favorite travelling items, amongst which were a camera and notepad, she left her bedroom to head downstairs.

----------------

In another household in another part of England, Fred Weasley was quietly finishing the accumulation of his arsenal for the day. Errol had been sent off to Angelina's house some time ago, though Fred

was having misgivings about giving the bird such a task. _I should've just… what's she call it… phoned her. No telling where Errol will end up, if he'll even reach her,_ he thought to himself as he

tiptoed out of his room. A soft snoring from his right reminded him of the bedridden state that most of his kinsmen would still be in at the hour. Living in a house full of people, one Weasley had to learn

how to evade awakening the entire brood or else face the consequences. Yet Fred chuckled as George shifted in his bed. The image reminded him of the way that whales sometimes belly-flop in the

ocean. He had left a note magically taped to George's forehead, and he could hear it crinkle during George's movement. Fred slipped on his sneakers, briefly dreading the way that his pants were always

too short. These were the trials of teenagers during growth spurts, let alone the trials of the Weasley family in which hand-me-downs were not always forgiving. But with his Quidditch shirt, worn in

preparation for the highly anticipated World Cup not too long from then, jacket, knapsack, and otherwise good looks, Fred wasn't too concerned with appearance.

"…Fred?" a voice asked, incredulous, as he entered the kitchen.

Fred greeted his mother with a kiss on the cheek. "Mornin," he said, plopping himself into a chair, dropping his backpack softly onto the ground.

"Fred, dear, you do know that it's early morning. As in before noon. In the summer," Mrs. Weasley continued, watching her son "accio" some juice and a glass.

"'Course, what, you think I'm mental?" Fred asked. "What's for breakfast?"

Once again, Mrs. Weasley was taken aback. Fred? Breakfast? Those two words rarely went together during this time of year; the twins typically slept in and even when they decided to wake up,

George was always up before Fred. To see Fred so bright-eyed, bed hair ruffled, with the sun barely rising, was alarming.

Mrs. Weasley's hand automatically sought under Fred's shaggy hair to find the skin of his forehead. "…You don't feel warm," she diagnosed. Fred playfully shooed her off.

"'Course. Just got some things to take care of today. Starting early. Aren't you always going on about 'taking more initiative in life'?" His eyes lit up when Mrs. Weasley started to fry some eggs.

"Well, yes, but I never thought you were actually listening to me," she admitted.

"That's my Mum, always thinking so well of me."

"Oh hush, child, you know full well that tone is rubbish," she teased, pinching his cheek for emphasis. Her teasing tone then took a drastic turn towards suspicion, the way that most mothers' voices

are prone to do when her child's behavior is atypically productive. "So what are you planning to do today and how much damage am I going to have to clean up?"

"Damage? Me? Mother, I beg your pardon!" Fred replied, astonished, half of an apple in his cheek. Her eyebrow rose. He swallowed. "Besides, I'm taking it out of the house."

"Oh, well, I don't know whether I should be relieved at the amount of cleaning I won't have to do or worried of the damage the world will be taking." Fred was sometimes amazed at how every

Weasley seemed to have the sarcastic tone in his or her voice.

"Best to count your blessings, Woman."

"Mother, Fred, let's keep it at Mother, please!" She swatted his head with her spatula, returning to the levitating pan of frying eggs. "So who will you be gallivanting with today? I suspect I should

have a plate of food ready for Lee?"

"Actually, I invited Angie around today."

Seeing that Mrs. Weasley's back was facing Fred, he couldn't see her grin, nor could he see the wheels turn in her head. She had heard the way that Fred had tried to mention Angie with as much

nonchalance as possible. After raising a family of seven, Mrs. Weasley knew how to read people. She also knew how to read tones, let alone read that which others didn't want to have read.

"Ah, Angie. Haven't seen her in a bit. How is she?"

"Same as usual, I imagine."

"Mm-hmm. What about the other girls? The ones from the Quidditch team?"

"Who, Alicia and Katie? Nah, just Ange."

"And… what will you three be doing today?" Mrs. Weasley turned around to peer at her son's face.

Fred hesitated for a moment. "Three? Nah, just Angie and me today. For at least a bit, anyway." Fred stole a glance at her from the corner of his eye, a muffin in his hand. He took a large bite from it, his

oncoming speech muffled with muffin. "George's been meaning to spend time with Gin, teach her some Quidditch moves, so I figured I'd hang out with Angie. To pass the time and all."

"Ahhh, that's nice of him, to spend some quality time with her," Mrs. Weasley spoke coyly. "I'm sure she'll enjoy it."

Figuring that she was referring to George and Ginny, Fred agreed with another muffin bite and nod.

"So when should we expect her?"

"Angie? Told her 8:00 sharp. Knowing her, she'll either be here 7:55 or 8:05. She's got a 10 minute range, that one; sometimes a little early, sometimes a little late."

"And what are you two planning to do today?"

"I dunno, Mum. Gallivant, I suppose."

"Well, it's almost 8 now. She'll be here soon. I'll make enough for you two and Mr. Weasley, seeing that he'll be down soon himself."

"Thanks, Mum." Though, for accuracy sake, what Fred said sounded more like "Manks Mum" between gulps of juice.

"Chew, Fred, for Heaven's sake."

----------------------

"Angelina? What're you doing up at this hour?"

"Morning to you, too, Mum," Angie replied, giving her mother a hug from behind. Her mother had been in the middle of placing toast in the toaster when her daughter's sudden entrance startled her. Like

Mrs. Weasley, Mrs. Johnson wasn't used to seeing her daughter awake at such an hour during the summertime. "For the record, I'm heading off in a bit."

"Oh? To do what?"

Angie thought for a moment. She didn't exactly know what she was off to do, but she knew that telling her mother that would be a bad move. Mothers didn't take too well to their children going off

without answers.

"Hanging out with Fred for a bit," she decided on.

"Fred? Oh, you mean Fred Weasley." Although Mrs. Johnson didn't approve of too much outlandish behavior, she had met the Weasley family on a number of occasions, mostly due to her husband's

work. She could see the warmth and love that surrounded the Weasleys, and she could hear in her daughter's voice that despite their prankster ways, her friends were loyal and true. Still, he was a boy.

And her daughter was a teenager.

"And what do you two plan on doing this morning?"

"Um, Quidditch stuff. Yeah, you know, the World Cup is almost here, Mum." How could Mrs. Johnson forget, it was almost the only thing that her husband and Angelina could talk about all summer

long. It was beyond her comprehension. "Anyways, seeing that this year is the Triwizard Tournament, there might not be any Quidditch plays and we don't want to get too rusty. I think we're going to run

some plays ourselves, talk about the matches coming up. You know, Mum, all that stuff you can't stand." Angie smiled sweetly. Not impressed, Mrs. Johnson pushed a grape into her daughter's mouth.

"Sometimes, I wonder about you."

Angie rolled her eyes. "I love you, too, Mum."

"Do you want me to make something for you?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure Mrs. Weasley will have something ready by the time I get there. Lee's always going on about how Mrs. Weasley makes sure that he's well-fed before shooing him off.

Anyways, I've got to run. I'm supposed to be there by 8."

"Where is there?"

"Fred's house."

"All right. Just let me know if you're going to be gone long so I don't worry."

"I will, I will," Angie sputtered, grabbing her broom and heading for the fireplace.

"And Angie?"

Angie turned around to her mother, who was holding out the pouch of floo powder. "I don't care how cute he looks, remember that "no" means "no."

Angie's mouth dropped. "M-mother!" she cried.

Mrs. Johnson tried to withhold her laughter. "Have a good day."

Disturbed, Angie had a little difficulty reciting her destination "The Burrow" before being swept away.

---------------

Several coughs and sputters later, Angie found herself crumpled on the ground of a warm and cozy room. Despite her upside-down perspective, she could tell by the scent of beans, eggs, and toast that

she was the Weasley home. She had only been there a few times before, mostly short visits. And although she knew most of the Weasley children from Hogwarts, she still felt shy whenever she came to

the Burrow.

"Fred, dear, I think Angelina just got here," she could hear from the kitchen area. Struggling to realign herself, Angie felt her face flush when a familiar set of gangly legs came into her vision.

"Why, Angie, so nice of you to drop in. And on time, too! Now, if only something could be said for the style of your entry."

Something akin to "harrumph" expelled from Angie as she searched for her center of gravity. "Oh, lay off, Fred. You know how much I hate flooing."

"Yes, yes. I believe you once said "the chemical push and pull leaves me disoriented." You look much better in the sky on a broom, Angel. Though I have seen you worse for wear."

Angie glared up at him. "Mind helping me up?"

Fred chuckled, but bent down to offer his hands. Taking hers into his, he pulled her off of the ground. Hand-in-hand, he pulled her arms up and down to inspect her of any bruises from the impact. Seeing

nothing painful, he noted the soot sprinkled on her clothes. Angie watched him examine her, feigning impatience by tapping her foot. But she did nothing to remove his hands from hers prematurely.

"Got a bit of dirt on you," he told her, poking her nose lightly. She brushed it away with the back of her free hand. Pulling out his wand, Fred pointed it at various parts of her body. "Scourgify," he

repeated, cleaning her up. Once finished, he gave a simple nod. Angie nodded back. It was a little thing that they had shared for some time; certain simple behaviorisms that held meaning only between the

two of them. A simple nod meant a simple good job done and a simple thank you. Simplicity.

"Hungry? Mum's up and cooking and I will warn you. She will make you eat something. So, best to not fight it."

Angie cracked her knuckles. "Don't worry, I came prepared with an empty stomach." Fred held his arms out and, naturally, Angie threw him her messenger bag. He set it down next to his knapsack in

the kitchen.

"Why, Angelina! What a surprise to see you!" Mrs. Weasley wiped her hands on her apron and approached Angelina. She wrapped her in a large hug that Angie was only half-expecting. Fred smiled

sheepishly. His mother was a very friendly and affectionate person. "Hope you're hungry because you're not leaving here until I get some food into you. My word, child, until I get lots of food into you!"

she added, taking in Angelina's lithe form. Looking to Fred for help, Angie glared as Fred joined his mother in checking out her body. Fred's version was more forward and provocative, as indicated by

his waggling eyebrows and faux-whistling. If it wasn't his mother in the room, Angie would have thrown a blunt object at his head.

"I'll have a little something, Mrs. Weasley, thank you. As long as it's no trouble," she added.

"Trouble? No trouble at all, my dear. Just have a seat. Believe it'll just be you two, seeing that it's so early. Though Mr. Weasley may be down shortly for work."

Seeing the empty table, a sight to behold at the Burrow, Fred pointed his wand at the seat opposite of his. Speaking softly, the chair moved out far enough for Angie to sit down, then pulled her in.

"Why, thank you, kind sir," said Angie with a flourished head nod.

"Anything for the lady," he replied with a wink.

"So what're you dears up to today? Fred said that it'll just be the two of you," Mrs. Weasley asked, placing a plate of assorted foods in front of Angie. Startled at the abundance before her eyes, Angie

faltered to answer. She looked up at Fred who simply shrugged his shoulders and kept eating.

"Um, Quidditch matters, Mrs. Weasley. You know, with the World Cup coming up."

"Ahh, how can I forget? Whole family's excited to be going. Why, I remember back a few years ago…"

As Mrs. Weasley began to tell a lengthy anecdote, Angie's eyes wandered from the matron to Fred. Once again, Fred had his wand out and was mumbling something softly. A second later, a muffled

voice seemed to call down from above.

"Oh dear, I believe that Arthur needs some assistance. Excuse me, dears. Angie, go ahead and eat before it gets cold." Mrs. Weasley left the two alone to tend to her husband. Upon her disappearance,

Angie's attention turned to her freckled host.

"What did you do?" It was more of an accusation than a question.

"Nothing." Smirk. "Just gave us some privacy, 'is all."

"Oh." There goes that neck tingle feeling again.

"Good save, by the way. 'Quidditch matters.' Ambiguous enough to sound accurate."

Angie took a bite of the eggs. "So what are we doing, Fred? You have yet to fill me in on what it is I'm doing in your home when I could be snuggled in bed."

"And a cute little bug in a rug I'm sure you make. But not today, Ange. Too much to do. Sugar?"

Angie had just put milk into her tea. "Yes, thank you. Should I expect to get blown up?"

"Hmm, I doubt it."

"Burnt to a crisp?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

"Frozen?"

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you."

"You're Fred Weasley. It's hard to not think about such things."

"I'm not sure whether to be flattered or insulted that those are the things that come to your mind in conjunction with me. Suppose I should just be glad I cross your thoughts from time to time."

Angie smiled. "Oh Fred, dear Fred, those are the nice things that come to mind in conjunction with you. If that bothers you," she sipped her tea, "I don't think I should continue the topic."

Fred smiled in return. "With best mates like you, who needs the Malfoys?"

Her hands grasped her heart. "You wound me, Weasley!"

"On second thought, you're cuter than Draco. Guess you've got that going for you."

"Aww. Wait, how much cuter?"

"Only by a pinch."

"Blast it, Fred. You build me up only to make me fall."

"You've got wings, Angel, I think you'll survive."

Mrs. Weasley took the opportunity to return to the kitchen, her face a scene of confusion.

"Hmm, my hearing must be muddled," she said more to herself than anyone else. Angie stole a glance at Fred, who merely shrugged. Leaning into the table, Angie began to whisper so that Mrs. Weasley

wouldn't hear them.

"Oi, should we leave?" she mouthed.

"Yeah. Scarf that down and we'll go," he mouthed back.

Angie stared at her plate. A lot of food was still left on it. She looked at Fred's plate. It looked like a war zone.

"You help me?" she asked.

Fred looked at her plate. He cracked his knuckles. He wagged his brows. With a grin, she flourished her wand. A "leviosa" co-op followed, one that any onlooker would have assumed as rehearsed, as

though the result of previous practice. With her head craned back, Fred's fingers moved quickly. His impeccable aim was landing grapes and strawberries squarely into her mouth. Likewise, Angie's spell

skills were impressive, levitating the rest of her beans and mushrooms into Fred's mouth and down into the abyss of his stomach. Both plates were clean within seconds. Raising their tea cups to one

another, pinkies extended, they clinked their cups together daintily and guzzled down the remains.

"All right, Mum, we best be off."

Mrs. Weasley turned her attention back to the table. Two innocent faces smiled at her, plates sans food. "What? My word, you two must have been starving!"

"Thanks for the meal, Mrs. Weasley. It was delicious. Comes well-recommended by Lee all the time and now I can add my name to the list of happy customers, "Angelina complimented, taking her bag

from Fred.

"You're quite welcome, dear. Feel free to drop by anytime."

"Thanks, Mum." Fred gave his mother another kiss on the cheek before nodding for Angie to follow him. Angie stared at the fireplace, weary.

"We going to Floo?" she asked.

"Nope. Grab your broom and follow me," he said.

"Say, Fred…"

"Hmm?" He opened the front door to the house.

"You mean it when you called me your best mate?"

"Best girl mate, yeah, sure," he replied over his shoulder, holding the door open for her.

Angelina smiled. It was the second giddy minute she gave herself that day.

-----------

Fred and Angelina walked side-by-side in silence, brooms balanced over their shoulders. It was a comfortable silence, reminiscent of the ones they had shared while on-route from successful (and

tiresome) Quidditch practices. Dew still glistened on blades of grass and flower petals. The morning birds were chirping all around them. Except for Errol, who had finally made his way back to The

Burrow. Angie grabbed Fred's shoulders and pulled him downward just in time. Errol's zigzagging form spiraled overhead, narrowly missing Fred's head, only to unceremoniously zoom through the open

window to the kitchen. A moment later, Fred and Angelina shrunk at the startled yelp of Mrs. Weasley. Looking at one another, Fred grasped Angie's hands and held his face to them, pretending to

weep.

"Oh Madam, you've saved my life! Oh, how can I ever repay you? I owe you my soul!"

Angie shook him off playfully. "Yeah yeah yeah, ger'off will you! 'Suppose you're in debt to me until I say so, huh? Owe me a favor for saving that head of hair, hmm?" She emphasized by ruffling his hair.

"Suppose it's a fair enough trade-off." Fred re-ruffled his hair into place, then watched her, suspicious. "Within reason, mind you."

Angie wrung her hands menacingly. "Bwahaha…"

"Oh come on," Fred insisted, giving her a little push forward. "You can laugh evilly as we walk."

---------------

"Wow, Fred…"

Angelina was in awe. The land that surrounded The Burrow was beautiful country, with plenty of grass and scattered trees. The sky was still tinged with pinks and oranges, though it was becoming more

and more blue as they stood. Angie turned to face him.

"You must love it out here."

Fred smiled a very relaxed smile. Angie considered herself a very sensory-sensitive person. And if she had to make a list of her favorite images, that relaxed Fred smile would be high on her list. It was

without the pretention that sometimes befell him while he was "performing" one of his and George's products. It didn't show any weariness of the concern she sometimes saw etched in his tense form

when he thought that one of his family members was in danger. It was simply Fred enjoying a moment.

He inhaled, exhaled. "Best part of the day is morning time, if you want some time to yourself around here." He pointed at a nearby tree. "Let's head over there." Angie nodded and followed suit, feeling

for her camera. Without his awareness, Angie took out her camera and took a picture of him from behind. A few yards later, Fred set down his bag by the bag. Angie

followed suit and waited for further instruction. Fred turned to her, broom in hand, along with an enchanted muggle playground ball. "Feel up to a go?" he asked, nodding at the sky.

Angie's face instantly lit up. "Do you ever have to ask?" she countered. Within three seconds, Angie had managed to mount her broom, kick off, and hover before Fred. He knew how much she loved to fly.

He also knew what that little glint in her eye meant, the one that came to her when she was feeling creative and wanted him to be a part of it. "What you thinkin', Ange?" he asked.

"Accio, camera!" she summoned. A moment later, her camera flew from her bag and arrived to her hand as though an invisible zip wire had worked in reverse. "I think some action shots would be a nice

to have, don't you?" she asked, pointing it at him. Fred proceeded to make a silly face in her direction. Angie enchanted the camera to levitate and move with their motions.

"Nice one," he approved.

"Never let it be said that we didn't document "the time of our life," no?" She began to twist through the sky, soaring and dropping with ease as her camera would occasion take shots.

"You are amazing on a broom, you know that, right?" Fred complimented.

She grinned, her nose wrinkled at the compliment. "Amazing? Nah. But surprisingly good considering how AWFUL I was first year, yes."

Fred laughed as they began to gain altitude. First year, Angie could barely make her broom leave the ground. Her struggles reminded him of Ron's story about how horrible Neville Longbottom had been

during their first lesson. But Angie was anything but a quitter and she had worked hard to master the broom.

"Well, you did learn from a pro," Fred reminded her, making circles around her.

She scoffed. "Pro? You were barely better than me; you just caught on a lot quicker. Sometimes, I wonder if that ego of yours can inflate any fatter and you always manage to surprise me."

"Come on. I did spend a good number of hours out there on the field with you. Remember when you hit me in the eye? How people asked me how my eye got blue? Do you know what that almost did to

my reputation; spending so much time with A GIRL?"

Angie laughed at the thought. "Such a thought at the time was quite unheard of, I suppose. …Not that the sentiment would be received in the same light today."

"Oh no, not by any means. By today's standards, it would only inflate my fat ego and reputation even more."

"Have I told you lately how much of a pig you can be?"

"I don't think a day goes by without you saying so much as that, Ange."

"Well, let me get in today's quota, then. Fred? You're a pig."

"Then you're the slop to my pigsty, Angie. Don't think I could live without you around."

Angie laughed loudly, summoning the ball to her hand. "Why, Fred, if you compliment me any more like that, a girl could get a complex."

"Is that good?"

Angie scrunched her face up. "Mm, not so much, no."

Fred snapped his finger. "Drats."

Angie chucked the ball at him. "So who do you think's gonna win the cup?"

Fred stared at her as though the Womping Willow had suddenly found itself behind her. "Do you EVEN have to ASK?"

Angie rolled her eyes as Fred threw the ball back at her. "Oh dear, don't tell me you're still loyal to…"

"They're going to win!"

"But they're up against…"

"I don't care who they're up against! They're still going to win!" Fred stubbornly retorted.

"But Viktor Krum…"

"Oh don't start with me with 'Viktor Krum.' Like I haven't had to give Ron a hard enough time. You going to turn into a lovesick Ronniekins on me, too?"

"Well… he is kind of dreamy…" Angie teased.

Fred tried to not grimace. "If you like brick walls with accents…"

"Who's to say I wasn't talking about your brother?" she retorted.

Fred gasped. "Why Angie! Going for younger men? And of all the Weasley men available to you?" She stuck her tongue out at him. "I would've picked Perce out before Ron."

It was Angie's turn to gasp. "Now, THAT is an insult!" she laughed, throwing the ball at Fred's head. She looked into the distance, raising her arms out so that she was balancing on her broom, eyes

closed. "How often do you do this?"

"Do what exactly?" he asked.

"Come out here and fly."

"Loads. George and I will just fly for hours, sometimes without talking. It's not as exciting as the Quidditch field at Hogwarts, but it's just so relaxing."

"Mm, I bet."

"We'll get Ron and Gin and play sometimes. And if Bill and Charlie are around, we'll get a small game going."

"So the entire Weasley family is trained in the arts of Quidditch?" Angie asked, amused.

"Except Perce."

"But that's to be expected," she added.

A moment of silent flying swept around them. Fred snatched the camera from its suspended place and took a few pictures of Angie himself. A full shot of her, eyes closed, perched on her broom. A

close-up of the soft hint of a smile playing at her lips. Fred looked up.

"Take your hair down."

Angie looked at him, surprised by his request. Noticing the camera, she tilted her head, ever so slightly, as if asking why. Something unspoken passed between them and, without verbally inquiry, Angie

pulled her hair down.

"Much better," he added. Taking another picture of her on her broom. "Fly around a little."

Bemused, Angie began to move through the air. "Have I discovered an inner photographer in you, Fred?"

Fred shrugged. "Just go with the flow. Isn't that what you sometimes tell me?"

"As long as you don't turn into Austin Powers on me…"

"What, you mean…" and out came the worst Austin Powers impression in the history of the world …"WORK IT, BABY. YEA, THAT'S IT. PUT SOME MORE GRRR INTO IT. Yes, yes, yes, NO

NO NO!" All the while, Angie performed some dramatic poses, laughing her way through the sound of Fred's horrific accent. "And I'm spent!"

Angie continued to laugh. "Fred. Never ever do that again. For the sake of us all."

"I think I agree with you." He then took a few subtle photos without dramatization and without comment. Satisfied, Fred let the camera retain its floating presence, and just flew with Angie.

----------------

"Oi, Fred? Think I need a rest."

"Already?"

"Well, I'm not so accommodated to heaping Weasley breakfasts and it's weighing me done."

"Understood. Back to the tree, Johnson!"

"Aye, Aye, Captain Wood!" she shrieked.

Fred winced. "Angelina… Never, ever, refer to me as Wood. Such comments are the fodder for the darkest of nightmares."

Zooming swiftly and with ease, the two landed back on the ground, slightly tired but content. Once they had reached the tree, Fred unzipped his knapsack and pulled out a blanket. As he pulled it out,

Angie turned her attention to the tree. It looked very old. Etched across its bark with various letters and names. Smiling, she took note of Fred's penmanship here and there. Fred cleared his throat and

Angie took one side of it as he took the other side. Together, they unraveled an old and worn picnic blanket and laid it on the ground. Fred flopped down; Angie simply sat.

"Hey Fred?"

"Hmm." He plucked a blade of grass from the ground and placed it between his teeth. He rested his back against the tree.

"So… we're not going to be doing anything dangerous today. Are we? No pranks. No secret missions. No nothing?"

Fred shook his head.

"Why not?" she further inquired.

The infamous Fred shrug. "We're always doing pranks and secret missions. I thought it'd be nice to take a vacation from that while on vacation, y'know?"

Angie nodded. "The joke shop preparation life must be never-ending. I imagine taking a step backward from that is needed every now and then."

"Exactly."

"Mmm. Hey Fred?"

"Mm?"

"You still having those dreams? The ones in the chamber?"

"Mm."

"You try that book I gave you? That doing any good?"

"Yeah, it actually is. Meant to thank you for it sooner."

"Consider me thanked."

They watched the world wake up. Though they were in the countryside, they could just imagine the muggle sounds of traffic beeping and honking only so far away.

"Alicia still going on and on about…" Fred started.

Angie snorted. "It's all she can talk about. This 'Yule Ball.' Keeps trying to get me excited about it."

Fred looked up at her. "Are you?"

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and shrugged. "Sounds all right. With all the other students from the other schools coming, I'm sure it's bound to be lavished and a good time, right? And, I don't know, call me girly…"

"Girly."

Angie glared. "Anyways… it'd be fun to dress up. I think I saw a dress the other day, actually…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Mum said we could give it a try before I head back. If I wanted to, that is. But I don't even know if I'll go or if I'll have a date or any of that, you know?"

Fred shifted. "You shouldn't doubt any of that. I'm sure someone will ask you."

Angie shifted. "And how do you know that."

Fred looked her straight in the eye. "Because I'm really Professor Trelawney."

She stifled a laugh and returned the stare. "Really? Then, Professor, what do you see for me in my future?"

Fred pretended to don a pair of invisible glasses, blinking erratically. In a low, ominous tone, he spoke. "I see that in your future, you will look absolutely smashing in the dress that you saw the other day. So much so that Lee Jordan will be on your heels at a 110 increased rate."

Angie rolled her eyes. "Smashing, indeed."

"And not only that, but Draco Malfoy will even consider switching over to dip into the Gryffindor pot."

Her nose scrunched in disgust. "Oh God, no…

"…And even Severus Snape…" he added.

Angie flailed her arms in disgust. "Nooooo, please stop!" She burst into laughter, shuddering at the thoughts. "I don't think I want to know my future anymore."

Fred nodded resolutely. "And rightfully so. Best to just let the future unfold as it should."

"You are wise beyond your years, Frederick Weasley."

Angie's hand found its way down to his hair, starting off as what meant to be a playful ruffle. But the softness of Fred's hair, along with its enticing ginger shine, caused her fingers to linger in a lazy stroll up

and down his scalp. Fred leaned into her gentle touch. It was another comfortable silence for the pair.

She tugged gently on a lock of hair to gain his attention. As he looked up at her, she couldn't mask one minute. One minute of affection slipped through her control. Through her eyes, her gentle touch, she

radiated the thought: "You know, Fred… Even though I know that you'd never admit it out loud, I'm glad that you think so much of me that you'd summon me, under ambiguous pretences, at an ungodly

hour, just to spend time together without everyone else here as white noise. And thank you for showing me a place that means so much to you and your family. And for the flying. You know how much I

love it."

Fred was surprised when Angie slid down and rested her head on his shoulder. Frankly, Angie was surprised at her boldness; her racing heart was "Exhibit A" to prove the case. Slowly, Fred wrapped

his arm around Angie, drawing her closer. "You know me all too well, Angel," he spoke softly.

One more minute, she begged herself. She dared to snuggle into him. "I know. Don't worry, it scares me, too."

Fred rested his mouth against her hair. "Be glad I like you so much; I might have to kill you for knowing too much."

She patted his chest. "Your secrets are safe with me." Pause. "Though you still owe me a favor."

"Within reason," he reminded her with a poke.

"Yeah yeah yeah."

And as they could hear the voices of the Burrow stir to life: with Ginny screaming as something was done to her; as Mrs. Weasley's voice commanded an explanation; as Ron defended himself from a

region that seemed closed to Ginny; as George scolded everyone for being so loud; as Mr. Weasley kept out of the affair, Fred and Angie savored this moment of privacy that rarely came. She savored

the way he was warm and smelled like muffins. He savored the way that twirling a piece of her unbraided hair made him feel so at peace. For once school commenced and the whole group was reunited,

the usual antics would begin. The pranks would be done and her wardrobe would shrink yet again by a few pieces. The girls would be strong and independent on the Quidditch field, yet crumble at the

first onset of unrequited love, the sight of a blemish, or by the stupidity of ignorant, oblivious boys. The boys would be messy, bold, and competitive in the hallways, yet falter to find the words to prove

they weren't as oblivious as their inarticulation insinuated. And she and Fred would be a bantering duo, leading the forefront of their trios of respective sexes. But moments like this, when their lives, so

different, could find the time and place to match paces, to match wits… When their mothers could drive them crazy and yet fill them with such love; when they could say more with their eyes than with

their voices; when they could share a sky as well as their dreams and anxieties. When their racing hearts could beat so quickly and so in sync with each other's…

It showed promise of more than a summer morning to be shared together.

And, hopefully, of more than one minute of indulgence.

-----------

Thanks for reading this random vignette. I'm thinking of spinning some more interrelated stories from this one… especially since Fred still owes Angelina a favor :P Please review! Thanks in advance:D


End file.
